


It's Rainin' Men

by teamhortense



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 16:10:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamhortense/pseuds/teamhortense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is questioning his sexuality...or does he just need a helpful push from a savvy co-worker?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Rainin' Men

**Author's Note:**

> This was a submission to the now-defunct "1Dslashweekly" prompt blog on tumb1r. [Prompt was a songfic] Got a few nods (but the winner that week blew everyone out of the water, haha.)
> 
> Currently working on a chaptered fic but thought I'd throw this out there while I nit-picked it to death.

I stepped out onto the street and she closed the door behind me. We’d parted friends (albeit awkwardly) - it turned out she suspected all along, but I’d been in denial forever: so used to going through the motions, playing to expectations, I was numb to my actual feelings. It took a bold move from a co-worker to jolt me out of my daze.

Harry was a new hire a couple offices over. We’d bump into each other at the copy machine or in the cafeteria, getting a cup of the gritty, bitter, brown/black-ish liquid the company was trying to pass off as coffee. A couple times we happened to meet in the elevator on our way to lunch, so we’d go try out a new place together. After the usual small talk about TV, movies, sports, delicate probing of politics, etc. it turned out we had really similar tastes in music. On one of our outings we spoke of a band we’d both seen live (different times/locations) and how much we enjoyed it. “Plus the lead singer is HOT!” Harry added with a laugh. I chortled and said “I’d do him!” before I realized what I was saying. “Oh!” I gasped while Harry laughed hysterically, gently giving my upper arm a squeeze. I twisted my fingers against themselves and stared down at them in embarrassment. He pursed his lips at me in a smirk and cleared his throat…

“Listen, Lou…”  
I look up…”Yeah?”  
“I have some friends I think you might like. There’s a place we like to hang out: the music is great, the drinks are STRONG, and you never know… Maybe you’ll click with someone - if not you’ve made a few friends at least. Whaddaya say?” I thought nothing of it. I shrugged and said “Ok, sure!” He said “Tomorrow after work?” and I agreed.

The next morning in front of the mirror I was as frantic as a 13 year-old girl on the first day of school. This? Too slutty! This? You look like a grandpa! This? AAAAIGH! Why don’t these button?! WHEN DID I GET FAT!!! AHHH! I stare in the mirror. CALM YOURSELF WOMAN. I dress in my usual work dress clothes, and throw a tour t-shirt in my messenger bag of the band Harry and I both liked. I’ll swap shirts after work and at least Harry will think it’s moderately cool.

After work I changed my shirt in a stall in the men’s room, still hoping it was “cool” enough and yet not trying too hard. Ugh. Smoothing my hand down the front. Wait - was it too new-looking? Like I bought it at Target and not an actual concert?! Has it been washed enough times to look legit???!!! Oh God. I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. When I finally opened the door Harry was at the mirror absently (yet very VERY focused on) arranging his hair. His eyes shifted to my reflection and he grinned sheepishly. “Busted!” he chuckled. It was my turn to throw my head back and laugh at his expense. I held up my suit-coat: “Jacket? No jacket?” I asked. Harry furrowed his brow. “Put it on, let’s see.” I shrugged it over the t-shirt. “Roll up the sleeves maybe?” I did and we surveyed the result in the mirror. He tented his fingers a la Mr. Burns and hissed “Exxxxxxxxxxx-hellent!” I guffawed and offered my elbow: “My dear?” Harry, “Oh, le blush…” as he linked his arm in mine, fluttering his eyelashes comically. We cackled our way to the elevators.

We get to the lobby and I’m puzzled to see him head out the front instead of to the garage. We’re both parked there but he tosses over his shoulder “It’s chill - one of my friends doesn’t drink so we have a DD for tonight.” It’s a Wednesday - I was hardly planning on getting ‘faced tonight but I shrug and follow him to a cab. We’re flying through streets (possibly cities?) I don’t even know or notice as we chatter animatedly, and after about a half hour heading into a neighborhood I could only describe as desolate and abandoned (possibly…godforsaken?) we pull up outside what appears to be a defunct factory of some sort - possibly once operated by abused child laborers. As Harry pays the cabbie I’m standing there clutching my bag, warily eyeing the disheveled man shouting violent obscenities at a mailbox half a block away thinking: “Oh - this is how it happens. I see now. I walked right into it. Clueless people are lured to remote areas where they are beaten to death for the $27 and the expired Las Vegas monorail ticket in their wallet, and in this case, a pathetic Killers t-shirt. Too bad I’m not a pretty blond teenage girl so it will never even make the local news…” 

I jump a foot in the air at Harry clamping a hand on my shoulder. He raises an eyebrow at me as if to say, “really mate?” and steers me into the building. We enter and there’s a vestibule, the second set of doors flanked by imposing-looking doormen who for whatever reason nod and smile at Harry and whisk him inside. It’s my turn to raise an eyebrow in his direction. “Well,” he chuckles “I TOLD you we like to hang out HERE.” I laugh good-naturedly as I slap him on the back. We enter what turns out to be a huge warehouse with several bars, dance floors, table/booth groupings, and a huge DJ platform, bass pounding relentlessly. Oh, and one more thing. This is a 100% a GAY CLUB. I’m not talking “I can’t put my finger on it but there is something very vaguely homosexualish about this club” - it’s GAAAAAAAAAY with a capital Judy Garland. There are speedo-clad go-go dancers in cages. Men are wearing feather boas and mardi-gras masks. There are “macho men” there are “twinks” there are “bears.” If a picture of this place came up on Final Jeopardy I would turn to Alex Trebek and say “What is ‘GAY’?”

Two boys with glitter in their hair waltz by us, one shouting “Oh hai Stylllllles!” with a wave. Harry slides his hand around my waist and waves back with a huge grin. I’m dying. I’m dying. This is where I die. Snaking through the sea of tables we finally arrive to a large curved booth where his friends are sitting, calmly chatting and drinking. They look up, curious as we approach. The brooding, dark one fixes me with a glare as he sees Harry’s arm around me. Harry introduces me as his friend from work, Lou. “And this is Zayn, Liam, and Niall” he points around the table. Zayn nods coolly, raising a short glass of neat, amber liquid to his lips. Liam tilts his soda at me and Niall grins broadly, patting the seat next to him, so I slide in, Harry taking the opposite end of the booth leaning in to give Zayn a quick peck on his neck. Their eyes meet and his chill falls away. THAT’S sorted, I think. (I hope! I’m not here to poach anybody - I don’t know why I’m here at all! What made Harry think —)

A lanky server sweeps in and chirps “drinks, fellas?” Harry orders a Fosters. I usually drink beer but this situation calls for something stronger. “I’ll have a double vodka tonic? Uh - and four shots of Patron and whatever Liam is drinking.” “Yeah buddy!” shouts Niall with a laugh. “Perfect!” chirps the waiter as he clicks his pen jauntily. “Hey all right!” laughs Harry. Zayn nods at me again, this time with approval.

“So…insurance, eh?” Niall asks. “Yeah, Harry and I work for the same corporation, just different brokers.” He nods “Bet you have LOTS of exciting insurance stories to tell!” he jibes me good-naturedly. I chuckle. He’s got me there. I’d be lying if I told you I’d said as a kid “Oh boy! When I grow up I want to be a claims adjuster!” “OH yeah, ” I said with fake enthusiasm. “It’s a thrill a minute! What do you all do?” “Oh Liam here’s studying to be a vetrinarian and Zayn works in aerospace of all things.” I raise my eyebrows. Zayn tilts his head and shrugs. “Ach, me I’m just a waiter.” “No shame in honest work.” I tell him as the drinks arrive. “Bottoms-up!” shouts Zayn as we click the shot glasses together and toss the fiery liquid back. Much sputtering, coughing and laughter ensues.

Several rounds later I’ve completely lost track of the time. I am “feeling no pain” as they say and having a blast. I hadn’t realized I was absentmindedly bobbing my head along with the music, something I didn’t recognize but with an upbeat, click-y hook. Moby? Is it Moby? Sounds too recent to be Moby. Cher? Shouldn’t I recognize Cher? “Oh dear” I think to myself. “I’m going to make a terrible homosexual - they’re going to take away my gay agenda!” I burst into raucous laughter out of seemly nowhere, causing the group to start and bug their eyes out at me. Niall guffaws along with me, his pale cheeks pink with alcohol. He’d been eyeing my zone-out bemusedly and asks “Wanna dance?” “Uuuuh. I really can’t dance. REALLY. AT ALL.” “Oh go on!” he shoves me out of the booth and drags me to the nearest floor. I awkwardly wait for him to start and he throws himself right into the music, swinging his arms wildly, leaping randomly into the air, flinging his head back and forth, grinning like a madman. He looks like an idiot: a handsome, beautiful idiot. I feel my face is going to crack from smiling so hard. His enthusiasm is infectious and I do my best to attempt something vaguely resembling dancing. Next the DJ fires up “Sexy and I Know It” and the floor is suddenly packed with bodies laughing, attempting to “shuffle” and over-zealously “wigglewigglewigglewiggle”ing. Liam leans over to me, giving me a friendly elbow in the ribs as he shouts “I saw that.” I blush having been caught checking out Niall’s “wiggle,” but he just winks and shuffles away with a smirk.

The DJ slows the beat down and segues into a slow, sultry, throbbing, grindy number. Couples pair up and singles sidle away discreetly. I glance at Zayn and Harry gliding together, Zayn pulling a sticky curl from Harry’s damp forehead and brushing it aside gently; Harry gazing up at him longingly. I’m about to turn back to the table when Naill wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. My heart pounds as I gingerly lay my arms around his shoulders. “Look!” he hisses into my ear and gestures with his chin toward Liam, who is about to slide back into the booth. One of the single guys from the bar tables has approached him. “Those two have been eyeballing each other for months and neither one has had the nerve to make the first move.” I watch as they smile shyly and timidly move together to the floor. I feel like I’m intruding on something personal and turn to face Niall who also breaks his gaze with them. He leans in again, his lips close to my ear “Liam is super shy. I’m pretty sure he hasn’t actually BEEN with anyone yet. You know - a guy I mean.” 

At this I freeze. I’m staring across the room at a blank spot on the wall. He stops moving and I look down into his furrowed brow. “It’s just that…” “Oh - GOD! Lou, I’m sorry.” He starts to step away and I realize I don’t want him to. I pull him in closer and don’t say anything. He presses himself against me, in time to the music, eyes closed, our cheeks touching. He reaches up and lightly tickles the short hairs on the back of my neck before pulling slightly away, looking me in the eye, then leaning in to kiss me softly on the lips. “Ok?” he whispers. “Yes.” I nod. We kiss again, more insistently this time. We sigh into each other as our lips part and our tongues touching shoots a jolt of electricity through me. I wasn’t prepared for it and I flinch away in surprise. “Sorry!” we both gasp, then laugh with embarrassment. I squeeze him reassuringly. “No,” I start “I want this, I do. I just need time. Can you be patient with me?” “Of course.” he whispers, cupping my cheek. “We have all the time in the world.”

A bell clangs. “Last call!” shouts the DJ over the PA system as the familiar chords sound out. The dance floor fills again with much whooping and merriment. I look at Niall bewilderedly. “It’s Rainin’ Men - SERIOUSLY?!” “It is for you - YEAH BUDDY!” he shouts and we shriek with laughter. Zayn and Harry raucously bounce by us, Harry shooting his finger at me and winking. “We have to be at work in 6 hours!” I shout, cracking up. “Oh, I don’t THINK so!” Harry responds, pointing around me to the table where Liam is waving with a last round of drinks AND shots for all of us. Goddamn! Niall and I look at each other, mouths perfect “O”s: “I’m gonna go out, and I’m gonna get, absolutely. soakin.’ wet!” We high five and flail with delight. This party is just getting started.


End file.
